


I've Got Your Back

by Felloffalot



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Introspection, M/M, Mid Time-Skip, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 07:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20111701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felloffalot/pseuds/Felloffalot
Summary: In the midst of the war, Caspar and Linhardt reflect on their ideals.





	I've Got Your Back

**Author's Note:**

> I had initially intended to write Annette/Mercedes, but I did Caspar and Linhardt's A-Support and I was overcome with a desire to write something about them. I love these boys. This takes place about two years after Byleth's disappearance in the middle of the Black Eagles route.

When Linhardt walked into the musty old library in Garreg Mach – one which had fallen into a regrettable state of disrepair due to the lack of interest in maintaining it – the last person he expected to see sitting down and patiently reading a book, far too invested in its contents to notice Linhardt’s presence, was Caspar. The hyperactive, rambunctious Caspar, so uninterested in reading that Linhardt had to wonder if he was even capable of it.

“Caspar,” Linhardt said. “How interesting to find you in the library all by your lonesome.”

“Oh, hey, Linhardt,” Caspar said. “What’s up? You need something?”

“No, not particularly.” Linhardt idly browsed the contents of the bookshelves with his back turned to Caspar, seeking out something new, despite his awareness that he had already devoured each and every tome in the library that contained anything even remotely interesting to him. “I just thought I’d take a stroll. It was either that or another round of slop at the dining hall. I never would’ve expected that I would find you reading a book.” Linhardt turned to face Caspar with a curious look.

“Yeah, I guess it’s not really on brand for me, huh?” Caspar chuckled.

“If you’re looking for information to aid you in your training, I’d be happy to assist.” Linhardt took steps towards Caspar. “Admittedly, I’ve taken a bit of interest in your latent fighting talent. You perform quite admirably for one without a Crest.”

“Well, it’s sorta like that.” Caspar scratched the back of his head. “I’ve been trying to get some info on battalion tactics.”

“Oh?” Linhardt tilted his head. Most curious.

“When the Professor disappeared, it got me thinking. That could happen to any of us, y’know?” Caspar set the book aside, a small bookmark keeping track of his progress, and rested his head in one of his hands, his other hand laying on the table. “You, me… Bernie, Petra, even a guy like Ferdinand… A stray arrow or a bad stab from a sword could be the end of us, without any warning.”

“The Professor’s circumstances were quite unusual.” Caspar’s expression didn’t exactly spell any sort of happiness with Linhardt’s contrarianism. “Though I see your point.”

“And we’re the biggest and toughest guys in this whole monastery, right?”

“Speak for yourself.”

“So what about the little guys? The ones without fancy armor or Relic weapons – the foot soldiers, the infantry, y’know? They’re at an even bigger risk. And if one of them dies on my watch, that’s on me.”

“So you seek to expand your knowledge of battalion tactics to better protect the men and women in your care?” Caspar nodded. “A noble cause. But consider this.” Linhardt took a seat next to Caspar a couple feet away, placing a hand on the table in-between them, their hands only a few inches apart. “In seeking strength and wisdom both to protect those you care for, have you ever considered that you are inflicting a similar fate on others?”

“Whaddya mean?” Caspar seemed annoyed, but that had never stopped Linhardt in the past.

“Say you were to face Ashe on the battlefield. White hair, fearsome with a bow – you remember him, yes?”

“Yeah, he was Lord Lonato’s adopted son, right?” Linhardt nodded. “Poor guy…”

“Indeed, he is quite unfortunate. And yet, he fights just as we do, to protect those he holds dear and to fulfill his goals and ideals.” Linhardt’s expression darkened. “If the two of you were to meet on the battlefield, inevitably, one of you would die, as would many of your soldiers. Your superior strength and tactics may win the day yet – but what purpose does it serve, if it involves snuffing out the light of somebody who does not deserve it?”

“So what?” Caspar frowned, clearly agitated. “Am I just supposed to stop training – stop fighting?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I merely want you to consider the fact that there are only victors in a war such as this – there are no _winners_. We can fight and train till our knuckles our bloodied, but the fact remains that we are fighting a war I fear we do not truly understand.” Linhardt clenched the hand he had on the table into a fist.

“So then…” Caspar looked at the floor. “Why are you even here, Linhardt? If you think all that stuff… that we might not be right and that there’s no point in killing other people… why don’t you just go home?”

“I… I hate war.” Linhardt sighed. “It’s a senseless loss of life that aims for nothing except for fulfilling the ambitions of the elite, whose true motives are always lost on the masses that toss their lives away for them. And yet, it will rage on, regardless of whether or not I’m here.” Linhardt unclenched his fist and reach out, putting his hand on top of Caspar’s. “I’m here for you, Caspar. All of you. Because I cannot bear the thought that you, or Hubert, or Dorothea, or _anybody_ I know may return home in a casket because I wasn’t there.”

“Huh…” Caspar appeared shocked for a moment, but quickly shook it off with a smirk, and he looked Linhardt straight in the eyes. “Well, don’t you worry about me. I’m only gonna keep getting stronger. And once the Professor comes back, I’ll show those guys in the Church that they never should’ve messed with us.”

“Oh?” Linhardt smirked in turn, letting out a light chuckle. “Pray tell, if I don’t worry about you, then who in this old, beat-up monastery is going to tend to your wounds when you inevitably face the point of a lance?”

“Well, Dorothea seems to know a thing or two about faith magic.” Caspar reclined in his chair. “I’m sure she’ll take care of me.”

“As if she could put up with you.” Linhardt reclined in turn, though he did not remove his hand from where it rest on Caspar’s own. “No, I fear I’m the only one uniquely qualified to put up with your brand of rambunctiousness.” He let out a faux sigh. “It seems we’re stuck with one another.”

“Well, it’s a good thing there’s nobody else I’d rather be stuck with.” Caspar let out a genuine, warm smile at Linhardt, and Linhardt smiled in turn.

Linhardt shut his eyes for what he thought was only a few moments – the warmth of Caspar’s hand combined with the atmosphere of the library was making him quite sleepy – but by the time he re-opened them, Caspar was gone, as was the book he was reading. He took a few moments to sit back before he had to stand and return to the cold reality of war. For once, he felt content.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel a little bad that this was significantly less romantic than a lot of other ship-y stuff I've written, but I wanted to write something kinda introspective for once. I felt like there was potential in Caspar and Linhardt just talking about the war.


End file.
